


Vampire the SMP: Wilbur Soot

by Special_Deal



Series: Vampire the SMP [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Vampire: The Masquerade, World of Darkness (Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - World of Darkness (Games) Setting, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Nagaraja, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29605332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Special_Deal/pseuds/Special_Deal
Summary: The untimely demise of one Wilbur Soot.
Series: Vampire the SMP [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2175087
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Vampire the SMP: Wilbur Soot

Wilbur was tired of where he had gotten himself. Sure, having expanded his criminal empire into nearly every aspect of local life was satisfying, but there wasn’t any room for expansion anymore. He missed the backstabbing, the late-night meetups for illicit activities in the finest homes. Wilbur didn’t care about what he had to do to get the perfect slice of blackmail, sacrificing himself on several occasions to catch the chief of police in a drug-fueled sex binge more than once.  
  
During one of his recent club buy-outs, he had discovered the basement’s floor stained almost completely with blood. Evidently, the former owners had used it as a meat cooler, but his suspicions were raised. When responding to a break-in alarm at the club, he was attacked by an intruder and kidnapped, waking up only to find himself hanging by his collarbone on a meathook in his own basement. He felt something cold against his throat, only for that to be replaced with sharp pain and warmth running down his chest. Darkness again, this time much deeper and darker than any sleep before.  
  
_Was this the end_ , he thought, his mind drifting for infinity in the blackness. Tracking time seemed to be useless, his past, present, and future beginning to slip and muddy themselves in his mind before a deep hunger gnawed at his stomach and his throat screaming for liquid, anything. In his chest, a fire burned and howled, wrenching control of his body and forcing Wilbur into the back seat. He watched in horror as his own body screamed and squirmed, attempting to wrestle itself from the hook that ran through most of his shoulder and chest. A horrible scream came from his mouth as Wilbur could do nothing but watch as his writhing body finally found a handhold on the hook itself.   
  
_Just pull the hook out, drop us down. It’ll be okay._  
  
NO. BLOOD.

Unable to even close his own eyes to ignore the sight, Wilbur viewed himself grasp hold of the meathook, lift his own body up, and throw himself back down with enough force to shatter his collarbone, sending nauseating waves of pain through his body as broken bone and muscle was exposed to air, an 8-inch long rip through his right shoulder. The pain would’ve stopped him, but the creature that took over his body seemed to have no limit for what it could survive through. As he dropped down, a member of a local gang that Wilbur had dealt with before for disposal of undesirable human merchandise dropped in and pulled their guns on him.  
  
Two shots were fired before Wilbur pounced on the unfortunate gangster, his still broken arm flapping uselessly. The creature inside of his head opted for a headbutt that ended with a sickening crunch for both his skull and the skull of the man before him. He could taste pennies now, his brain screaming in agony at being rattled around, blood and serum oozing from his nose and ears. Still, his head was brought back and smashed into the gangster again, again, and again, until the man’s corpse would have been unidentifiable at a glance. The beast inside then grabbed the body, ripping its way into his chest and grasping raw handfuls of this person’s flesh, cramming them into his mouth, and feeling his cravings and thirst going away. As he continued eating, the Beast withdrew back into Wilbur’s subconscious, but he didn’t stop eating. Forget sex, forget heroin, forget tripping out on peyote and going on a spirit journey with some old First Nations guy, THIS was heaven. Before he knew it, Wilbur had stripped the flesh off the bone of an entire person and went to find the club’s bathroom to clean off. As he looked in the mirror, a marked change showed: his mouth curved into an impossible smile with four large teeth almost like tusks covering his mouth, sinking back into a normal smile as the hunger and memory of the pleasure from eating kicks in.   
  
“What the fuck just happened”, he said to himself. “Why didn’t I stop?” 

He had dug in with such ferocity that his hair was slicked back with blood and bits of flesh were still hanging from his fingernails and teeth. His entire shirt and jacket were soaked in blood, but when he went to take them off he found that his shoulder had healed completely, and touching it only brought back the memory of watching himself rip through his own flesh and bone without a second thought. As he stared into the mirror, letting the tap run and provide white noise to his racing mind, a plan began to form in his head. The only non-bloody clothes he had left were some old French military clothes his latest fling had sworn up and down were going to be worth something someday. As he slipped on the uniform, he reviewed mentally where his night had gone and shook his head. At least he could shrug off getting shot, brutalizing his own body, and a head injury that would’ve stopped the most braindead football player dead in his tracks. He opened the club door into the cool night air, pulled out a cigarette, and took a drag, expecting the warm familiar buzz of nicotine but instead diving into a coughing fit, doubling him over before the coughs worsened and Wilbur vomited his lungs out onto the sidewalk. 

“This is just a nightmare, any second I’m going to wake up. I probably took too much, and I’m tripping out right now. This is just a bad trip, yeah.” Wilbur, despite all his talk, was beginning to think this was just too weird for a nightmare. As he stood outside, trying to process this information, he decided that he needed to get the hell out of town. He walked back inside, using the club’s phone to call Schlatt. They hadn’t talked since Wilbur had taken advantage of Schlatt’s political connections to make a deal he couldn’t pay for, and Wilbur let the blame fall squarely on his best friend. After a few rings, he hit Schlatt’s voicemail.  
  
“You’ve reached Big Man’s voicemail. If you’re hearing this, it means I don’t think you’re important enough to answer when you call. Good luck getting ahold of me.” 

A robotic voice pierced through the speaker at twice the volume, causing Wilbur to flinch and hold the phone away from his ear. “The subscriber’s voicemail box is full. Please try again later. Goodbye.” The line went dead in his ear, as Wilbur sunk to the floor. He was all alone, in the most disturbing moment of his life so far, and he had long abandoned his only friend. At least the cold, hard floor felt like the most comfortable bed of his life as he drifted off into a restless unconsciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought of the story, and if you'd be interested in more! I have a clan and embrace story planned for each member of the Dream SMP. If you have questions about the setting or my writing, please ask! I'm more than happy to answer any questions you may have.


End file.
